A Series of Drunken Events
by HerenyaHope
Summary: What happened last night? Why can't they remember? And where the hell is John! It's a race against time to answer these questions, piece together their memories and find their missing companion before Rose finds out and kills them. Should be simple right? HumanStuck!AU, no pairings now but there may be later.
1. Chapter 1

Your name is Dave Strider, and you do not look good in a fluffy pink tutu. You are confused, what the hell does that have to do with anything? You need more information before this confusing statement can make any sense. You go back to the beginning.

Your name is Dave Strider and you fucking hate the sun right now. The moment you pry open your sleep encrusted eyes it becomes clear that the sun's goal in life is to cause you immense sadistic pain in your retinal areas. Groaning, you close your eyes, denying that evil cosmic fireball the ability to enact its cruel torture. You roll over to further stick it to the sun, but that plan does not go as awesomely as you expected. You shortly find yourself in the domain of gravity, before the bitch throws your ass out and you end up sprawled out on the floor.

The change of scenery has provided you with the great discovery that you feel like a totally un-cool sack of shit. The Sahara has decided to take up lodgings in your throat and there's a fucking drum line beating away in your head heralding its arrival. You crack open one of your eyes, to take in your surroundings.

Holy crap.

Hurricane Fuck-This-Shit looks like it just wreaked havoc on the once immaculate hotel room. After much struggle, you stagger to your feet to take in the damage. A variety of trash and debris cover the floors and various surfaces. The curtains hang half ripped from the windows, which explains the invasion from the sun.

There is a sea of empty liquor bottles strewn about, which explains your current uncool biological state. As you stagger around what was once the living room of your hotel suite, it occurs to you that you have no fucking idea how any of this happened. You have had your fair share of hangovers, but this has reached levels beyond the Sunday morning headache. You let out a pained sigh. When you rub your eyes you become aware of the lack of a barrier between your hands and your face. You are not wearing your shades. You don't know where they are.

Oh hell no.

Slowly, you search your way through all the shit in search of your beloved eyewear. While searching you find the room's other occupants. You chuckle quietly at the sight of a certain foul-mouthed rage machine passed out under the kitchen table, snuggling a plastic lawn flamingo like it was his soul mate. You still have one foot in drunken dreamland, and so you don't even question where he got a plastic flamingo, or why he has a black eye that would make Rocky look like a wimp. The urge to snap a picture of the unconscious dude calls to you, but your shades are more important, and you don't remember where your phone is anyway.

Speaking of which, you do find your shades, but in the worst of places.

"Dude, not cool!" You do not appreciate being forced to snatch your awesome shades away from a polka dotted fuckass who was using them as a chew toy. Said polka dotted fuckass tries to take them again to which you kick him in his side.

"Fuck you dude!" Neither your words nor your kick even stirred him. He just whines in his sleep and flops onto to his stomach, burying his face in a pillow with half of its feathers spilling from the case.

You shake your head and wipe the clown spit from your shades before restoring them to their proper place on your face. You give yourself a mental pat on the back for making that unintentional survey the scene once more, taking into account the room and your passed out companions, before laughing to yourself.

"Wow." You shake your head in amazement. "Egbert sure does throw a good party." In actuality, it was you who arranged this little shindig, but since the party was in your friend's honor you felt like being a generous dude and give him some praise. You still can't remember a damn thing, but you have a feeling that it was awesome.

When you heard that your pal John's 21 birthday was coming up you knew you had to get in on that shit. Like the awesome fucker that you are, you hopped on a plane all the way from Texas to Washington with plans to give your bro the best birthday ever. Daddy Egbert already had a big day planned on his actual birthday, but you convinced the old guy to let you have John for a couple days prior to give him a Strider style celebration. What did that entail?

A weekend in Vegas of course!

Indeed, you didn't even tell your chums the destination until you were rolling up to the airport. It was all expenses paid, courtesy of you. You could afford sending all four of you since the cash you earned from selling merch from your comics is through the metaphorical roof, not to mention your rising career as a club D.J. You can buy anything you want, really.

You vaguely wonder where on earth John is, but the call of your bladder is singer a louder tune. You make your way into the bathroom, too focused on your mission to bother taking in the condition of the room. It's probably just as messed up the rest of the place.

As you conduct your business, a noise breaks through your still hung-over stupor. The sound is strangely animalistic, equestrian if you will. It is also coming from your right. You're not really thinking as you turn towards the noise. What you see definitely gets your brain running.

"What the-?!" Your heart almost busts through your chest Kool-Aid man style when you see that there is a fucking horse in the bathroom. In record time you zip up your pants and back up into the corner by the door and away from the horse. Actually, it looks more like one of those miniature ponies you see at petting zoos, the little shaggy ones with the stumpy legs and stuff, but that is not the point. The point is that there's a friggin' four-legged hoof-beast residing in your bathroom. You wait for the animal to do something, but it appears to be occupied by the hay that is also on the floor.

"Uh…" Your typically artful tongue fails you at the moment. You confused utterance arouses the attention of the pony, which turns its head at you, mouth full of hay.

"Um...nice horsey?" you say. The pony does not appreciate your diplomacy and lets out a loud neigh.

"Whoa there," you respond with your hands up in a surrendering manner.

"Let's just calm down okay-" The pony snorts angrily and stands on its hind legs. You take this as your cue to get the heck out.

"Guys!"

= BE THE FLAMINGO GUY

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you FUCKING HATE LIFE RIGHT NOW!

You surface to the waking world with an angry grumble rumbling from your throat. You hate mornings, among other things, so much so that even your first action after waking is pissed off. You peel your face off the ground, finding that your cheek had stuck to the tile floor overnight. Rubbing your reddened skin, you look down and wonder what you were holding. You are confused by the presence of the plastic bird, and scowl at the thing. The painted black eyes stare back at you, beady and emotionless. You push it away and go to sit up. A stream of curses escapes your mouth when you smack the top of your head on the bottom of the table. The lightheadedness that follows makes you lose your balance and sends you back to the floor, where your face gets smushed into the flamingo's head. Once again the flamingo's eyes stare at you, like it's judging you and your lack of grace. Fuck that bird and its judgments!

You crawl out from under the table, much like an angry cobra that just got a speeding ticket. Like one of those where you were just going like two friggin' miles over the limit, but officer McFuckass is treating it like you were auditioning for The Fast and Furious.

Yeah, one of those.

You realize that the table is not the only cause of the pains in your head. In fact, you feel like complete shit. You express your anger by reaching for the plastic bird and chucking it a random direction.

Apparently that random direction is the resting place of one of your fallen companions. You hear the sound of plastic hitting noggin followed by a startled 'Honk!'

"Hey, get your clown ass up you idiot," you growl. Normally you'd be screaming by now, but the hammering in your head and your scratchy throat object to such an idea. Still, you sound just as ticked at the world as ever. You hear a moan and watch the idiot sit up. The guy gets up like a freakin' mummy. He slowly rises up with his arms extended, waving aimlessly in the air like he's trying to grab something; he even groans like the undead.

"Not cool bro," he sighs, rubbing the spot where the flamingo hit his head.

"Shut up, I am so not in the mood right now," you snap. You cradle your aching head, resisting the urge to puke. You cannot believe how hung-over you are. You know very well that you can't hold your liquor, which is why you hardly drink. You try to remember how these fuckers convinced you to drink so much, but the memories elude you. There is an intense throbbing on your right eye and you brush your fingers over the skin.

"Fuck!" you hiss when pain blossomed under your touch.

You hear snickering.

"Bro...your eye's like...a blueberry."

"Shut up," you growl. You find a metal baking pan on the floor and bring it up to your face. It's not the best reflective surface and your image is a fuzzy blur, but you definitely see a dark splotch where your eye should be.

"What happened?" you wonder to yourself.

"Guys!" Startled by the scream, you jump and drop the pan. The sound of the metal clanking against the tile hits your ears like whatever left the bruise on your eye.

"Arrgh!" You groan while rubbing your temples.

"Dudes!" You see Strider come bounding down the hallway. He runs so fast that he almost runs straight over a couch that had been pushed in the middle of the hall. He pushes the couch out of the way with a strong kick. He catches his breath while jerking a thumb behind him. "Do you know what's in there?" he pants.

"What in where?" You are not in the mood for Strider's crap, and you voice shows it.

"In the bathroom!"

"What about it?"

"There's a fucking horse in the bathroom!"

You make a snort of derision. Obviously the blond is either still drunk as hell, or is trying to take advantage of your current state and screw with you.

"Yeah right," you scoff.

"I'm serious man. There is a four-fucking-legged hooved mammal, and it's in our bathroom."

"Strider did you steal from that asshole's stash or something?"

"Better not have! That shit's motherfuckin' pricy!" You hear from across the room.

"Just look!" Strider tells you. You really don't want to move right now, in fact you'd much rather curl up into a ball and die, but if it will get Strider to shut up it seems worth it. Besides, since it's starting to feel more and more likely you are about to hurl, might as well do it in the bathroom.

You support yourself on the table while you get up, and pick your way through the destroyed room to the hall. Your flash a glare at Strider for no real reason, but you can't read his expression due to those stupid shades of his. You are pretty much diagonal the whole walk to the bathroom, leaning against the side of the wall as your feet drag across the floor. You bump into a painting but you don't give a crap. You hear it fall on the ground with a clatter, but you give it no sympathy.

Blearily, you open the bathroom, already thinking of the specific and detailed way you want to tell Strider to go to hell. You were not expecting to come face to snout with a sand colored pony.

"What the hell?!" You slam the door shut and stomp back into the living room.

"Strider why in the EVERLOVING FUCK is there a horse in the bathroom?!"

"I don't fucking know!" the blond retorts.

"Oh my head," The world starts spinning again and you plop onto the ground.

"I know dude," Strider sympathizes. The thought of Strider showing pity for you pisses you off, but there are bigger matters at hand. You get a feeling in your stomach like it's doing somersaults and you know what's about to happen.

"G-get me a trashcan," you stammer while holding a hand to your mouth.

"God dammit don't do it man," Strider warns you, but he still hands you the requested wastebin. You can feel it coming and hear Strider curse.

"Man if you start pukin' I'll start pukin' and-"

You ignore the blond in favor of retching into the trashcan. The noise you make it one of the ugliest noises you've ever heard yourself make. The heaving is the worst part, and you feel your muscles contracting against your will, as if you've been possessed.

"Jesus…" You look up and see Strider's looking away with a green tint to his face.

"Fuck...you," you manage to say before you start vomiting again. You take some satisfaction in the blond's discomfort. Once the contents of your stomach have been emptied, you sit back and try to catch your shaking breath.

"Dude we got so wasted last night."

"Thank you Strider. Thank you for that WORLD-SHATTERING REVELATION! WOW WHERE WOULD WE BE WITHOUT YOUR FUCKING BRILLIANT INSIGHTS! THE FUCKING WORLD IS FOREVER CHANGED BECAUSE OF THAT FUCKING BRILLIANT FACT YOU HAVE BROUGHT TO OUR ATTENTION!"

"Geeze calm down man. Your Kankri is showing."

"YOU SHIT-EATING PIECE OF-!" Strider's comment has sent you into a rage. You're like friggin' Poseidon with the profanity storm you're brewing up. You don't even care that your own loud voice is making your ears ring. Strider keeps retorting with his aloof ironic comebacks that only fuel your screaming.

"Hey bros." You and the blond pause your verbal strife and turn to the room's third occupant.

"I can see that y'all are up and busy with your motherfuckin' fightin', but I think we're missing a motherfucker."

You're about to tell him to shut up, when you realize that he's right.

"Where the fuck is John?" you asked angrily.

"I don't know," replies Strider.

"Well let's find him!" The fact that John has yet to investigate the commotion you three have been causing means that he's probably still asleep, and you intend to wake his ass up and make him suffer along with the rest of you.

"I bet he's in his room," Strider says as he makes his way down the hall towards the bedrooms. The idea of John getting to sleep away in his cozy-ass master bedroom while you're still stiff from sleeping on the ground irritates you.

"He's not in here!" Strider calls from down the hall.

"What the heck?" You go ahead and check the other bedrooms, expecting to see the nappy headed guy in one of the beds, or on the floor. When you find the other bedrooms empty you become more suspicious.

"Is he in here?" Strider asks from the doorway.

"No."

"Dammit, where is he?" Strider begins to call out John's name as he re-searches every room.

"John?"

"John?" You here panic start to form in Strider's normally even voice.

"John where the fuck are you?" you call while aiding in the search that was growing more frantic.

There was the living that connected to the kitchen, four bedrooms with adjoining bathrooms, and a balcony connected to the master suite, but you and Strider can't find John in any of them. By now both you and Strider are running around the hotel suite screaming John's name like a bunch of squawking hens, not that you really care how unmanly you sound. You don't even notice that Clowny McStoned-Fuck hasn't even gotten up to help you guys.

= BE CLOWNY McSTONED-FUCK

That's not your real name, though according to Karkat it might as well be. Your name is Gamzee Makara and you are watching your friends running around like squawking hens. You don't really know what they are so freaked about. Like the chill mother-fucker you are, you let your mind wander and do its own thing. The room's a mess, but you don't really care. You're a naturally cluttered dude, and just let the stuff decide where it wants to be. Organizing goes against the flow of the universe man. Since you are in a constant state of inebriated enlightenment, the hangover doesn't hit you as hard as your compadres. Still, your head is a little achy and you could really use a drink of something. Preferably faygo. You must have had a whole lot of something to get you to even feel the hangover, but you don't ponder that for long. From the mirror on the wall you can see that your appearance is less than miraculous. You wicked clown makeup is all smeared up, and there little spots of skin showing from where it had peeled off. You wild black hair is an even bigger rat's nest than usual, and you're pretty sure that there are things in it.

"Gamzee you fuck!" You hear the sound of Karbro screaming, so you turn to him.

"What's the matter bro?" You ask.

"Get your clown ass up and fucking help us!" he yells.

"Whatcha need?"

"Have you not been listening? We can't find John!" That isn't cool. A missing bro is not a good bro, and you can tell Karbro is on the verge of flipping his shit.

You hear the front door open and see Dave race in. You don't even remember him leaving the hotel room. Now that you think about it, your thoughts are even more muddled than usual.

"Well?" Karkat asks impatiently.

"I checked the front desk and they said they didn't see John leave. I checked everywhere else too but I got zip."

"Jeagus," Karkat begins to pace. "Where the fuck could he be?"

"Right now I'm just wondering what the hell happened last night," Dave replies. He gestures to the destroyed room.

"Seriously, what happened?"

"I don't remember!"

"Neither do I."

"I'm also empty in the think-pan brothers," you throw in.

"Shiiiiiiiiit!" Karbro's pulling at his hair, which you know is not good.

"Hey bro, let's just motherfucking chill for a sec." You go to stand so you can calm down your bro, but the action triggers a surprising pain in your side.

"Honk!" You lean over the couch letting the furniture support you.

"The fuck's wrong with you?" Karkat's at your side helping you stand.

"There's a pain game going on in my motherfuckin' side," you say while he leads you to the other side of the couch. He sits you down and is pulling your shirt up. Your lower torso is wrapped in bandages, which are not very white anymore.

"What the heck Gamzee?!" Karkat yells as he unwinds the bandages.

"What?"

"Did you fucking get shot?"

You think for a second, but no memory of that kind appears. "I don't fucking remember."

"There is a bullet hole in your side!" Karkat exclaims. You look down where your bro had uncovered the bloody hole in your flesh. You blink.

"Well fuck, I guess I got shot."

Karkat slaps his face. "How. The fuck. Do you not remember. GETTING. SHOT?" he seethes between his fingers.

"I ain't rememberin' much of anything right now," you admit. Karkat was letting loose some dying whale noises when Dave comes back into the room. Once again, when did that fucker leave the room?

"What's wrong with Vantas-whoa." You see the blond's eye brows rise over his aviators.

"The hell happened to you man?"

"Gamzee got shot," Karkat answers for you.

'I guess that explains this." You notice that Dave had brought with him a wheelchair.

"Where did you find that?"

"Found it in John's bathtub."

"Great, first a horse in the bathroom, now a fucking wheelchair in the other bathroom."

"Whoa man!" You jump up in excitement.

"There's a motherfuckin' horse in the bathroom."

"Yes Gamzee, we already went over that," Karkat sighs. You aren't really paying attention now. You just want to see a fuckin horse.

"Motherfucking sweet!" You cry as you race down the hall.

= BE KARKAT.

Your name is Karkat Vantas and your best friend is an idiot.

"Gamzee wait!" You call, but the clown is already down the hall.

"How the heck can that dude run after being shot?" Strider asks.

"I don't know! The moron's so baked I'm surprised he even felt it." You throw your hands up in exasperation. All of this shit is really wearing down what little nerves you possess. You hear Gamzee yell and then the clown is running back to the living room.

"That thing's awesome!" Gamzee grins.

"Yeah, yeah," you dismiss his rambling.

"Same with those squid things."

"Yeah, yea-wait what squid things?"

"The pony man. He got some little squidy friends chillin' in the tub. All swimmin' and shit."

You have no idea how to respond. There's a chance this is just one of Gamzee's pot induced hallucinations, but more likely there's going to be a bunch of "Squidy friends" in your tub. You opt not to check.

"We need to get our shit straight," says Strider.

"Yeah," you respond, for once agreeing with him.

"We need to figure out what happened last night and how we're going to clean all this up." Strider grimaces at the room. "'Cause I gotta feeling the hotel ain't gonna like this. But most importantly we need to find John."

The thought that should have occurred earlier now graces you with its presence.

"Call him," you tell Strider.

"Shit, why didn't I think of that?" Strider fishes his phone from his pocket and quickly dials John's number. He puts the phone to his ear and you stand there with him while you wait for John to pick up. Strider starts tapping his foot while the quiet sound of ringing goes on. He stops and lets out a sigh of relief, indicating John picked up.

"Hey man, where are you?"

"Right fucking here, my shaded brother." You heard the response and not through the phone. You and Strider turn around.

"Gamzee?" You find Gamzee holding a familiar cellphone.

"Hey bro," Gamzee says into the phone, despite the person on the other line being in the room.

"Where did you get that?" You stomp over to him and snatch the phone away.

"In here." Gamzee pats the slashed up pillow that he'd been sleeping on. A bunch of feathers fly out and hit you in the face. You're spitting feathers out of your mouth and swat away the accursed things.

"Great, the moron doesn't have his phone." you gripe. "Now how are we supposed to find him?"

"I don't know," Strider replies. "But we need to find out where now. I swear if Rose knew…"

You can't see his eyes, but you know that they must be wide as dinner plates. You too feel your eyes widen in fear.

"Shit…" Dread sweeps over all three of you at the thought of that name, and who it belongs to.

"Rose." You all say in unison, and it might as well have been the sound of death.

Rose had been totally against this little venture Strider cooked up. She became immensely against this venture once she found out Strider planned to take them to the "Intoxicated Idiocy capitol of the world," as she put it. But because John was so excited about it, she allowed it. She would have gone with you guys to babysit, because apparently you guys are pants shitting babies and she a mama bear. The reason she didn't was because she and Jade promised to help with setting up John's party back home with his dad. Still, she vowed to check in on you guys every day at the same time. Speaking of which…

You stiffen. "What time is it?!" After sifting through the room you find a working clock and almost have a heart attack at the time on it.

"It 9:59!" you screech. Rose said that she'd call at 10:00 and you know that she would be punctual as fuck about it. As the three of you scramble around trying to figure out what to do John's phone began to ring. You all jump and stare horrified at the handheld device. You look at Strider, since he's the poor bastard holding it.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Answer it!" you whisper, despite the person on the other line being incapable of hearing you.

= BE THE POOR BASTARD

Your name is Dave Strider and you might be dead in a minute. You look to Gamzee and Karkat, but it's clear you will have no help from them. You gulp, staring down at the phone, whose screen showcased a picture of a Rose along with the name of the caller. The name of the person that may be your undoing. You give a nod to your comrades, and see them eye you hesitantly as you click the button and press the phone to your ear.

You are calling upon all your skills to keep your voice sounding normal and relaxed.

"Sup?" That was good. The guilty wouldn't use such a casual and aloof greeting.

"Where is John?" She's getting straight to the point. Surely she cannot be suspicious already?

"He's taking a shower," you quickly lie.

"I see…" Damn, she's not buying it.

"I do recall John saying that he prefers showering in the evening." You are tempted to deter the conversation by questioning Rose's knowledge of John's showering habits and slide in the innuendo involved. But you know changing the subject would only put up more red flags.

"We...stayed out late last night." No man, never pause! Keep it smooth Strider. With your lie already established you let the details roll off your tongue without pause.

"By the time we got back he was tired and went straight to bed."

"Ah, that makes sense," Rose responds. "How long until he will be available for a conversation?"

"I don't know, he's just got in. But when he's out I'll tell him to call you." Hecks yeah, look at you and your slick self.

"Very well, and I assume that you four are behaving yourselves?"

"Yeah Rose we're having a wonderful and perfectly legal time."

"I see, and I don't suppose that you would be fine with disclosing the responsible and mature activities you have participating in?"

"I'd love to Lalonde, but I got to take a shit and get dressed." You wait for her to respond, and you feel like there are tendrils of suspicion and doubt seeping through your phone. Sometimes you think that Rose has supernatural powers along with her psycho-analyzing crap.

"Very well Dave, I expect an update later," Rose says.

"Don't worry, I'll tell Egbert to call you back."

"Good-bye."

"Later." The sound of Rose hanging up is the sweetest you've ever heard. You look at Karkat and Gamzee, who are staring at you with anticipation. You tell them the great news.

"She's slightly suspicious with a hint of doubt!"

You three start cheering like you just won the Super Bowl.


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

**Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I've started school again and am currently working on my novel (an original story) so it's a little hard to update. However I will not give up on you guys or this story just yet! I hope you enjoy this chapter, do note that a majority of this chapter will be flashback, but don't let that discourage you!**

**ON WITH THE STORY!**

= BE DAVE STRIDER

Your name is Dave Strider, and you are one lucky son of a bitch. You know that Rose didn't buy your lie, but you'd take slight suspicion over her calling you out and coming down from Washington. Still, the fact that Rose let you off the hook so easily is startling and very out of character for her. You wonder if maybe there is a reason for this un-Rose response, but you don't want to jinx your good fortune by questioning it.

"So Lalonde's out of the way?" asks Karkat.

"For now," you remind him. The time you bought yourselves needs to be used in search of your missing friend.

"Okay," you start. "I think the best way to find John is to find out where we've been and retrace our steps."

"Well how the hell do we do that?" Karkat asks pissily.

"Everybody empty out your pockets," you order. The coffee table is cleared by your arm, and you and your companions empty the contents of your pockets onto the glass surface.

"Okay so what do we have?" You all go around describing what you've found. In your own pockets you found one used bar napkin with what looks like a lipstick stain smeared on it, a poker chip that was too worn out to see where it was from, cherry flavored lip balm, and the nasty remains of a sucker stick. Karkat has two candy wrappers, a receipt from a gas station, and a pink hair tie. Gamzee has a torn Faygo label, a bottle cap, a ball of tangled substances that looked like dryer lint and cotton candy, as well as…

"What the fuck?!" Karkat yells when Gamzee lifts up a bloody tooth.

"Whoa, where'd this come from?" Gamzee stares at the tooth in wonder. Sometimes you wonder what goes on in the stoner's head that makes him so chill.

"Is anyone missing a tooth?" You all feel around your mouths to check for vacancies in your gums. As it turns out none of you are missing any teeth, which is a relief. But it raises the question of whose tooth it is, and why Gamzee had it in his pocket.

"Maybe it's John's?" Karkat suggests.

"Oh god John." You can't believe you lost John. This threatens your status as a cool dude if you can't even keep track of your best friend when it was his birthday you were celebrating.

"Think guys! Does any of this shit ring any bells?" you demand.

"No."

"Nah bro."

You too are not recollecting anything from the coffee table of junk. You lean back and run a hand through your hair.

"Alright, what's the last thing any of you remember?"

"God dammit Strider I told you the whole night is a blank!" Karkat snaps. His bad attitude is starting to wear on you.

"Vantas quit your bitching and start using your head. I know it's a blank but we need to try and remember what happened _before_ it goes blank."

Karkat groans and buries his head in his hands. "I don't fucking know!"

You look at Gamzee. "What about you man, can you think of where we were?" You are aware that the clown's memory is about as reliable as a narcoleptic truck driver, but you still hope he can remember something.

"Hmm…" Gamzee scratches his head and you're certain you saw pieces of asphalt dislodge from his tangled locks.

"Not much is coming to mind bro…" Your fears are confirmed and you hang your head.

"Well, besides the roof." Your head shoots up. "What about the roof?"

"I don't know." You reach across the coffee table and grasp Gamzee's shoulder.

"You gotta focus man," you say, giving him a little shake. "Look me in the eyes-"

"I can't see your motherfucking eyes."

"That's beside the point! What about the roof Gamzee?"

"I don't know! We were just on the roof."

"Hey I think I remember that too," Karkat pitches in.

"Good, what happened?"

"I think...yeah you dragged us all up to the roof for something."

"I did?" You start to think, and you feel some memories resurge.

"Yeah, I remember it too. John was with us I'm certain."

Karkat rolls his eyes. "Now I remember. I had a feeling whatever you were planning was going to be utter bullshit."

= _BE PAST KARKAT_

_Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you have a feeling whatever Strider is planning is going to be utter bullshit. Moments ago you and John were in the living room waiting for Gamzee to get back from the gas station across the street. The clown wasn't able to bring his Faygo onto the plane (How he was able to smuggle his weed stash on, and why he didn't hide the Faygo in the same place you have no idea) so as soon as you landed and were settled into the hotel he raced out to buy some. Dave said he had something planned for you all, but was going to wait until Gamzee got back. _

_While Strider's was in his room, doing god knows what, you and John were taking advantage of the comfortable and huge white couch. While channel surfing on the fancy plasma screen, John found a Nic Cage movie and became engrossed in it despite it being already near the end. You were glaring daggers at your computer screen, hoping that your glare would scare away your term paper so you wouldn't have to deal with it. You brought your laptop along in hopes of getting some work done on the stupid paper for your college course. Strider can call you a nerd all you want, like hell this trip was going to get in the way of your degree. _

_ You were spell checking your work, and cursing at the stupid red squiggle that can't fucking tell that 'Karkat' is not a misspelled version of 'carcass,' when the front door burst open with the pot scented presence that was Gamzee._

_ "I'm back motherfuckers!" The crinkling/swishing sound associated with plastic bags was rather loud as the clown bumbled into the kitchen. You looked up from your laptop and saw that Gamzee had arms full of plastic bags, all filled with bottles of Faygo._

_ "For fucks sake Gamzee did you fucking buy all the Faygo in the store?" you yelled. Gamzee heaved all the bags onto the counter, slid his arms out of the handles, and started unpacking them._

_ "There were so many different flavors, bro. If I got just one kind, the rest would have been sad. I can't pick favorites."_

_ He said this like it's a reasonable, logical explanation. You in turn, gave him your own reasonable and logical explanation of how he is a money-wasting sack of idiot._

_ "Not even you can drink that much Faygo." you add. "You're gonna have to throw the rest away before we get on the fucking plane."_

_ "Hey Gamzee, I'll help you finish it!" John offered in that generous, friendly voice that makes you want to punch him._

_ "Thanks man, any bottles I don't drink are yours."_

"_Okay!"_

_ "John do not drink that fucker's moron juice."_

"_Hey Karbro, Faygo is life man!"_

_ "It is cheap, disgusting swill that tastes like it originated from a pig's rectum."_

"_Hey is Gamzee back?" You look back and see Strider-well- striding into the room. God you can't believe you actually made that pun. Even mentally. _

"_Yeah I'm back, and Karbro here is dissing the wicked elixir!"_

"_Bummer. You get the goods?"_

"_Hell yeah." Gamzee grabs something from a bag and tosses it across the room to Strider. Effortlessly the blond catches the bottle of apple juice, and in one swift motion he uncaps it and takes a sip._

_ "Gotta get in my A.J now," he says after downing half the bottle._

"_All of you drink up your soda or whatever the fuck you guys drink. It'll probably be the last non-alcoholic thing you drink tonight."_

"_Not for me," you state adamantly. "I will be the designated non-pissed drunk person in this little group."_

"_Ah come on Karkles, live a little," Strider teases you as he wraps an arm around your shoulders._

"_I am not getting drunk tonight, Strider."_

_ "Why do you have to have a stick up your ass all the time? It's John's birthday!"_

"_First off, I do not have a stick up my ass, you stupid Texan. I simply dislike the taste of alcohol and what is does to me. I do not wish to wake up with my face plastered to the floor cuddling with some stranger from a bar who will most likely have either some sort of disease, or is a serial killer planning on turning me into a hat. Also, I do not care if it's John's birthday, the fucking queen of England could come and ask me to do jello shots and I would tell the broad to fuck off."_

_ Strider said nothing at first, but then he began to chuckle._

"_Damn you're right Vantas. You don't have just a stick up your ass; you have the whole fucking tree."_

_ "Wasn't there some shitty thing you wanted to do?" You snapped._

"_Oh yeah, well now that Gamzee's here we can get started." Strider told you all to get dressed and ready for your night on the town. You change into dark jeans, and a grey turtle neck. It seems strange to be wearing long sleeves in such a hot city, but you don't care. You emerge from your room and wait for everyone to get finished. _

"_Seriously John, what the fuck is that?" John came out wearing a blue tuxedo. No, not just blue, some shitty sea-green/aqua blue hybrid with a stupid ghost on the breast pocket, with a black shirt, and a bright-ass green tie. You knew that John was a goof, but he seriously looked more like a clown than Gamzee._

"_What are you talking about Karkat?" John asked innocently. "My suit is cool." _

"_Your suit looks like shit," You informed him. _

"_Don't listen to him John, you're looking classy as fuck," said Strider, clapping John on the back. He's also wearing a suit, but unlike John it was red with his stupid record logo, and he had a white bow tie. Though not as ridiculous as John's, you still thought the attire reeked of douche._

"_Little under-dressed their guys?" Strider says to you and Gamzee._

"_I'm dressed just fine," you said. At least you put on something relatively nice. Gamzee was wearing one of his ratty t-shirts and his stupid polka-dot pajama pants. You would have said something about him wearing pajama pants in public, but that conversation had happened many times before with the same results being you walking with a nappy looking ass-hat in his . He was also sporting a freshly painted face, the clean lines between the gray and white paint the only neat thing about him._

_ Now that you had your stuff together, you followed Strider out the door and into the hotel hallway. You went over to the elevator and clicked the button, but Strider ushered you away._

_ "What the heck?" _

"_We're not leaving just yet." _

_ "Then where the fuck are we going?"_

"_Follow me." Was all the cryptic asshole said. At the end of the hall was a heavy metal door, and after Strider yanked it open you saw it led to a stairway. _

_So now you and your fellows are currently climbing the steps that seem to go on forever, all the while you're demanding the blond to tell you where he's taking you guys._

_ "The roof."_

"_Oh my god is this some sort of Hangover shit?"_

_ "Surprised you know a movie that isn't one of your shitty romcoms."_

"_You're fucking ripping off the Hangover."_

_ "It's purely for ironic purposes."_

"_I think it'll be cool," John says. You swallow down your urge to rant on the lameness of this situation. If you're going to be dealing with this all night you'd better start now, to build up your tolerance._

_After climbing a couple flights you finally get to the top. A gust of air whooshes passed you when Strider opens the rusted door to the roof. At first you all take in the rather impressive view the roof provides. Even you can't deny that Las Vegas is looking pretty sweet right now. The lights spread out for miles, glittering beside the night sky. Down below cars and people scurry around like insects on the strip. It's quite the sight, and you start to feel glad you decided to come along. _

_ "Alright gather around shitheads." And of course, Strider kills the mood. The four of you tear yourselves away from view and stand in a circle. Strider pulls out four beers and passes them around._

_ "I'd like to make a toast," he says as he hands out the bottles._

"_Strider I told you I'm not fucking drinking!"_

_ "I'd like to make a toast to John." Strider says, ignoring you. He looks at John, the lights of the city reflecting in his sunglasses._

"_John, you are a lot of things man. The first few years we knew each other was through a computer screen, and I thought you were some nerdy dweeb with shit taste in films and an unhealthy man-crush on the Cage. Then five years ago I met you in person at one of my shows, and then I found out I was right."_

_ You all chuckle, even John._

"_But some of my other thoughts were confirmed as well," Strider continues. "I also realized that you are a great friend. You're smart, most of the time at least, can make a good joke once in a while, and damn it if you are one of the most honest and loyal dudes I've ever met." Dave grasps John's shoulder._

_ "You're my best friend, and I love you, in the most platonically bromantic sense of the word. Happy b-day man."_

_ "Aw Dave!" John pulls Strider into a hug._

"_Dude, you're making it weird," the blond states, making John pull away._

_ "Sorry," he says sheepishly._

"_Alright, I've said my piece, anyone else wanna say something about Egderp?" Suddenly all eyes are on you and you sigh._

_ "Fine I'll say something," you grumble. You don't do well with the sappy mushy stuff, unless it's on TV or in a movie, and in that case it's not sappy mushy stuff but the fine genius of cinema at work._

_ "John," you start, trying to figure out what to say. "I'd be lying if I said your influence on my life has been the best thing that's happened to me, because god knows most of the shit thrown at me lately has been your doing. You turned my plate of problems into a friggin' buffet line of misery and Tylenol popping." You pause because you just remembered you're supposed to be saying nice things._

_ "But I'd also be lying if I didn't say that you've also made my boring, monotonous existence a little more interesting. Like Strider said, you're a good guy, and anybody that can put up with my crap without being high," you gesture to Gamzee, "Is a person who deserves some credit. Happy birthday you son of a bitch, may you live long enough to cause me more hell." Despite your sarcastic delivery, you mean every word, and by the look on John's face, he knows that too._

_ "Thanks, Karkat."_

"_Yeah, yeah," you grumble, and no that's not a smile trying to make its way on your mouth!_

_ "I would like to also add to this feelings jam!" Gamzee says out of the blue. All of you look at him confused, and you fear what on earth the clown has to say._

_ "John, let me just start out by saying that friendship is a magical thing."_

'_Oh god here we go...'_

_ "It's like...it's like a rainbow, but not one of those lil rainbows you get when you got your sprinkler on, more like one of them giant-ass motherfuckers you see after the Mirthful Messiahs get the flu and make a huge storm. One of those. But you can't keep that motherfuckin' majesty to yourself though man. You gotta have people with you to get the full motherfucking experience."_

_John lets out a bitch squeal when Gamzee wraps on of his gangly arms around John's shoulder and reels him in. _

"_So ya see what I'm getting at here John?" _

"_Uh...not really," John says awkwardly._

"_Friendship is a motherfucking rainbow!" As Gamzee gets more emotional he squishes John between his neck and his arm. Egbert weakly flaps his arms, and you and Strider would have helped if you didn't find the whole thing so hilarious._

_ "It's a double bow of rained filled wonder, sparkling like a door knob and you gotta share that shit with people you care about. And when you share that fucker with true friends, you know what you get John?" _

_ John has now freed himself from his limby prison and is gasping for breath, hair ruffled and his glasses crooked. _

_ "W-what?" he sputtered._

_Gamzee lifts his hand up and stares up at the sky. _

_ "Miracles…"he whispers, slowly waving his from left to right._

"_Okaaaaay thanks for that Gamz." Dave peels John away from Gamzee, much to John's obvious relief._

_ "Alrighty, now that we've gotten all our feels out," Dave lifts his beer bottle. _

"_To a night we'll be talking about for a long time."_

_ "Here, here!"_

"_Yeah whatever…"_

_ "Aww yeah man~"_

_You clink your bottles together and take a swig. You grimace as the alcohol goes down your throat, but you suppose one drink won't hurt you. _

_ "Alrighty boys, let's shove off," Strider declares._

"_We've got a long night ahead of us."_

_ From there everything gets __fuzzy__, until it all goes black..._

**AUTHOR'S NOTE!**

**So now you know how their night started! But how will it continue! Hohohohoho~ note that while I have vague ideas of what I want to happen during this little adventure, a lot of parts are blank and I make it up as I go. So! If y'all have any ideas I'd love to hear them! No idea is stupid or too crazy, because the point of this fic is to be as insane as possible haha! **

**COMMENTS ARE MOST APPRECIATED!**


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